From the Mind of Newt
by lgkavanagh22
Summary: Thoughts from the mind of The Glue. *Death Cure Spoilers **I do not own The Maze Runner series.
1. From the Bowling Alley

I sat alone at the back of the bowling alley. My head was spinning, and I knew this Flare was getting worse. I also knew there was nothing I could do about it.

Most of the Cranks crammed into the bowling alley weren't at the Gone yet. But they definitely had the Flare. You could tell by the way they laughed at anything, a high-pitched, shrill laugh that would make any sane person cringe. They had no rhyme or reason to anything they did. There was no order. And that made me stressed. And the stress made the virus worse.

I stared absent-mindedly at the crowds of people before me. My mind wandered, jumping from insignificant thought to insignificant thought. Were any of them conscious of what they were doing? Were they justifying it in their own minds, some kind of twisted logic I wasn't far enough Gone to understand yet? Did they honestly think they were having fun?

I hoped I never had to find out. Hopefully, I would be dead before that.

Why wasn't I dead now? I had trusted Tommy with that note- he was the only one I trusted was my friend enough to do it.

But sometimes I wonder if that's really why I chose him. Sometimes when my mind slips away from me, I wonder if it's for vengeance. He was the reason all this happened to me-to everyone. He should have to pay for it. And forcing him to have my blood on his hands was my way of getting back at him.

When my mind would snap back to normality, all those thoughts went away. Of course that wasn't true. But the logic was almost too good to ignore.


	2. From the Top of a Wall

As days went on, my mind would slip away more and more often. I would be tempted to join the mass of crazed, sweaty, delusional people that crowded the bowling alley day and night. But I never gave in. I fought my impulses, even though I knew that fighting them just made everything worse.

But I didn't care. I'd be dead soon. If Tommy didn't do it, I'd bloody do it myself. It's not like it would be something I hadn't tried to do before.

That day was something I went back to a lot. The day I almost killed myself. But never in the same way. As time went on, my brain distorted the memory- people, places, sounds, colors appeared that I'd never seen before. But the feeling was always the same.

Despair. Agony. Hopelessness. Emptiness. Nothing but the will to die. To escape the Maze in the only way I could come up with. That was something They couldn't control. Once I was dead, I would be dead. No going back. I would never have to face the Glade, the Grievers, or anything to do with that shuck Maze ever again.

One day, I decided to just do it. Do it and be done with everything.

The physical exertion of climbing the wall was nothing compared to the mental pain I was in. I finally reached my destination and didn't hesitate a second.

As gravity pulled my body to the ground, all I felt was relief. I could finally escape. I was done.

The ground caught me. Was I dead? No. Not yet. But as night fell, and the Grievers came out, they would take me away. Finally.

I don't know how long I was out there. My neck and back throbbed with pain. My entire leg was numb. How much longer would I have to wait?

Eventually, Alby came out and frantically dragged me back to the bloody Glade. Why? I was so close; I saw the doors close behind us, not even a minute after we entered back into the Glade.

The medical boys got me fixed up, and I had a change of heart. I still hated the Maze- I still hated everything. But I was just going to have to stick it out. My limp always reminded me how much I hated it and how much I just wanted to leave.

But none of that compared to how much I wanted to leave now. Leave these Cranks to their crazy, doomed lives. Leave this bowling alley and leave my bloody infected brain.

I just wanted to be free.


	3. From the End of a Launcher

_**A/N: This is a long chapter. But I really wanted to include the whole scene. The dialogue is taken directly from **__**The Death Cure**__**.**_

* * *

The day those immune shanks came to visit was the worst day I had. Tommy, Minho, Brenda- what were they doing here? What did they want? I told them to get lost- I told the guard to tell them and I bloody yelled it at them myself.

They wanted me to come back with them. How stupid of them. I couldn't just go back. Not with this shuck brain. I was going crazy. I already was crazy. If I went back, who was to say I wouldn't snap their necks or break their noses or knock them out with my fists only to feast on their still functioning but oh-so-bloody delicious brains?

My head was hurting more that day that any other time my infected brain would let me remember. I was not in the condition to deal with these people, especially that shuck-face Tommy. How could he be doing this to me? This was worse than throwing us in that bloody Maze. He was letting me go insane. He was one of my best friends, one of my brothers, and he was letting me suffer like this.

And all I could think was that I was going crazy because I wasn't dead. And I wasn't dead because of Thomas.

I had given him that note in confidence. I knew he would be able to do it. Shouldn't he understand?

It felt like my brain was on fire at this point. My whole body ached, and words began to jumble in my head. Those so-called friends of mine just needed to leave. I couldn't take much more of this before this shuck disease took over entirely.

The looks on their faces were filled with sympathy and pity. Almost like I was some shuck dog who was missing a leg or something.

But I wasn't missing a leg. I was missing my brain.

And that look was what finally sent me over the edge. I couldn't stand being looked at like that. I just wanted them to leave me alone.

I grabbed the launcher beside me (which, I might add, wasn't terribly hard to obtain) and pointed straight at Thomas. I wasn't dead, and that was his fault. So if one of them was going to suffer because of me, it deserved to be him.

"Whoa, there," Minho tried to calm me down. Because that would work. "Slim it nice and calm. There's no need to point a shuck Launcher at my face while we talk. Where'd you get that thing, anyway?"

"I stole it. Took it from a guard who made me…" I strained my crazed brain to come up with the word. "Unhappy."

I knew this wouldn't be enough to make them leave- not yet. "I'm…not well. Honestly, I appreciate you buggin' shanks coming for me. I mean it." And I really did mean it. Somehow in that moment knowing that they cared lessened the pain just a bit. But just a bit and only for a little while.

"But," my voice strained, and I was afraid that it might start to crack, "this is where it bloody ends. This is when you turn around and walk back out that door and head for your Berg and fly away. Do you understand me?"

That was a stupid question- of course they understood. But would they act?

"No, Newt, I don't understand," Minho said. Liar.

"We risked our necks to come to this place and you're our friend and we're taking you home. You wanna whine and cry while you go crazy, that's fine. But you're gonna do it with us, not with these shuck Cranks."

Of course I'd rather go crazy with those guys- the problem was, I had no intention of going crazy at all. How had they not figured that out? Anger boiled inside of me until I was sure one of my bloody organs would explode. I jumped up, rage taking over.

"I _am_ a Crank, Minho! I _am_ a Crank! Why can't you get that through your bloody head? If you had the Flare and knew what you were about to go through, would you want your friends to stand around and watch? Huh? Would you want that?"

I had lost control of my body at this point and could feel myself shaking more with every word. But I wasn't done.

"And _you_, Tommy. You've got a lot of nerve coming here and asking me to leave with you. A lot of bloody nerve. The sight of you makes me sick."

I could see the confusion in Tommy's eyes. Hadn't he read the note? Hadn't he known how bloody _important_ it was? Obviously not.

Something in my brain softened, and I put down the Launcher.

"Newt, I don't get it. Why are you saying all this?" Tommy said quietly. So quietly I had to strain to hear it. And that just made everything hurt worse. But I had to keep myself calm.

"I'm sorry guys, I'm sorry. But I need you to listen to me. I'm getting worse by the hour and I don't have many sane ones left. Please leave."

I never wanted anything so much before in my life. More than I wanted to get out of that Maze or survive the buggin' Scorch. I just wanted them to leave.

Tommy was going to try to argue.

"No! No more talking from you. Just…please. Please leave. I'm begging you. I'm begging you to do this one thing for me. As sincerely as I've ever asked for anything in my life, I want you to do this for me." It pained me to say those words, both emotionally and physically.

"There's a group I've met that are a lot like me," I continued, "and they're planning to break out and head for Denver later today. I'm going with them."

I paused to collect my wits. My sanity. I had to just survive this a little while longer.

"I don't expect you to understand, but I can't be with you guys anymore. It's gonna be hard enough for me now, and it'll make it worse if I know you have to witness it. Or worst of all, if I hurt you."

That was my biggest fear. After all the abuse and trials I've been through, after seeing lives taken by Grievers and knives and lightening, I refused to hurt anyone more. Or at least, the sane side of me refused.

"So let's say our bloody goodbyes and then you can promise to remember me from the good old days." I tried to inject some sarcasm in that last part, but it just came out flat.

Minho still didn't understand. "I can't do that," he said.

I lost it again. "Shuck it! Do you have any clue how hard it is to be calm right now? I said my piece and I'm done. Now get out of here! Do you understand me? Get _out_ of here!"

I sat back down and went back to just trying to calm myself down. My brain had started to feel like it was on fire again. My body shook and ached and my breathing had become strained and jumpy.

By the time I looked back at the group, Minho and some Cranks were in a fight. I couldn't take it.

"Stop it!" I screamed. "Stop it now!" I grabbed the Launcher. I was done with this. "Stop or I'll start shooting and not give a buggin' piece of klunk who gets hit."

My finger tightened around the trigger and I didn't even bother to notice which of the Cranks got hit.

"I told him to stop," I said quietly, almost as if my insane brain was justifying it to my normal brain. I turned the weapon on my old friends. "Now you guys leave. No more discussion. I'm sorry."

"You're going to shoot me old pal?" Minho asked cockily. It brought back memories of our old Glade life, something that just ultimately made all of this worse.

"Go. I asked nicely. Now I'm telling. This is hard enough. Go."

"Newt, let's go outside."

"Go! Get out of here!" I stepped closer to them. WHY WOULDN'T THEY JUST LEAVE!?

Finally, Tommy of all people got it through his shuck head. "Let's go. Come on."

Minho seemed surprised. He seemed sad. "You can't be serious." Tommy nodded. Minho said something else that I couldn't hear. I was tired of it.

"I'm sorry. I'm…" I stuttered, "I'm going to shoot if you don't go. Now."

Finally, they turned and left. Slowly, but all the same.

I sat down and left the Launcher at my feet. If I had been able to produce tears, I'm sure I would have cried.


	4. From On Top of Thomas

Tommy.

That's the name I put with the face I see from the crowd of Cranks I was forced into. That name is the reason I'm here at all instead of buried underground or in piles of dead bodies or wherever they put their dead Cranks.

That's the memory I have when this bastard decides that it would be okay to approach me again.

"I bloody remember you, Tommy. You just came to see me at the Palace, rubbed it in that you ignored my note. I can't go completely crazy in a few days."

I tried to throw as much sarcasm and spite into that last phrase as I could manage. A surge of pain went up my spine into my brain. _Go away_, I tried to tell the virus. As if it could understand me and do as I wish. _Go away and just let me be sane again_.

"Then why are you here? Why are you with…" Tommy paused. I got myself ready to defend myself from whatever word he chose next. "…them?"

I looked over at the other Cranks. More were past the Gone than not. Their actions were wild and spontaneous, but animalistic. Never a good kind of wild. And I was just like them.

"It comes and goes, man. I can't explain it," How could I explain this bloody illness to someone who never had it- someone who would never have it? Man, I hated him.

"Sometimes," I started carefully. "I can't control myself, barely know what I'm doing. But usually it's just like an itch in my brain, throwing everything off-kilter just enough to bother me- make me angry."

That's what it was like now. But I know it wouldn't last long.

"You seem fine now," Thomas said.

_Thanks_, I said in my head. _So bloody nice of you to notice._

"Yeah, well. The only reason I'm with these wackers from the Palace is because I don't know what else to do. They're fighting, but they're also a group. You find yourself alone, you don't have a bloody chance."

I thought I had come to accept my fate over the last few days- doomed to go crazy with these bloody people. My eyes would always give it away- I was a Crank. No more order. No more bloody order.

But I couldn't. I couldn't do it. As much as it hurt my brain, as much as my body shook trying to resist it, I just wanted to be dead. Even if some miracle cure existed, I was in too far. I had done too many things I could never take back. I had threatened to shoot my friends- my _brothers_- just for trying to help me.

I wanted to be away from these Cranks and just waste away. But I was never able to concentrate on that idea long enough to actually take action. And Thomas could never understand any of that.

"Newt," he started. How long had it been since I'd heard my own name said in such a calm voice? "Come with me this time, right now. We can take you somewhere safer, somewhere better to…"

Somewhere better? He had his chance to send me somewhere better, and he'd blown it!

I laughed. More like a combination of scoffing and giggling like a buggin' school girl. I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Get out of here, Tommy." I tried to say it nicely. But the pain that had shot through my spine and head intensified. "Get away!" I screamed. At both Thomas and the virus.

"Just come with me. I'll tie you up if it makes you feel better."

No, it would not make me feel better. Why would that make me feel better? And _I_ was the one with the brain disease? What _would_ have made me feel better was a bullet in my chest, a knife in my back, or a snap in my neck. _That's_ what would have made me feel better.

And he wasn't getting away with it like back in the bowling alley.

"Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn't you read my note? You can't do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero like always?" Anger boiled in me like lava. "I hate you! I always hated you!"

Immediately I knew it wasn't true. In some dark corner of my mind, somewhere where The Flare had never reached, I knew it wasn't true. But I kept going, the rage too much to keep silent inside me.

"It was all your fault! You could've stopped them when the first Creators died. You could've figured out a way. But no! You had to keep going, try to save the world, be the hero. And you came to the Maze and never stopped." More pain, and my body began to tremble. "All you care about is yourself! Admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one people worship! We should've thrown you down the Box hole!"

He needed to be taught a lesson. I was going to make him kill me. Care about someone else for once. I started to move towards him. Tommy shouted back to someone, but I wasn't focused on that. I just kept moving forward.

"Newt, stop." Fat chance. "Just listen to me." I won't. "I know you're okay in there." You have no idea. "Enough to hear me out." Why should I?

But all that came out in response was, "I hate you, Tommy! I hate you!" I repeated it over and over. "After all I did for you, after all the freaking klunk we went through in the bloody Maze, you can't do the one and only thing I've ever asked you to do! I can't even look at your ugly shuck face!"

Tommy backed up. "Newt, you need to stop. They're going to shoot you. Just stop and listen to me! Get in the van, let me tie you up. Give me a chance!"

I was done giving chances. A scream ripped out of my throat, pulling anger out with it. A Launcher shot and missed me. I felt the animalistic part of brain begin to take over. I fought it, but it was a losing battle.

I tackled Tommy and held him down. "I should rip your eyes out! Teach you a lesson in stupidity," I thought out loud. "Why'd you come here?" My brain literally ached to know. "You expected a bloody hug? Huh? A nice sit-down to talk about the good times in the Glade?"

Good times in the Glade. Just saying the words just made me sick. I felt my voice rising. I wasn't controlling anything anymore.

"You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you?" I tried to think back. But all my memories were distorted and fuzzy. "No, I don't think I did."

"What happened?" Tommy barely got out the question before I responded.

"I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed."

The look on his face was pure shock and sadness.

"I hated the palce, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all…" _Fight the crazy._ "Your…" _Fight the crazy_. "Fault!"

My eyes caught sight of something shiny. A gun! My way out! Finally.

I twisted Tommy's hand so the gun was held to my head. Finally. I was almost giddy with excitement.

"Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters!" I paused. _WHY WASN'T I DEAD YET?!_

"Kill me! I trusted _you_ with the note! No one else," Not Minho. Not Brenda. Not Frypan. No one. "Now do it!"

Thomas tried to pull it back, but I was stronger than him. My will to die was stronger than his will to not kill me. Of that, I was sure.

"I can't, Newt," he said quietly. "I can't."

"Make amends! Repent for what you did!" The words were so strong, so full of passion and hunger for this one thing, they seemed to rip my organs out. How could I make him understand?

I tried lowering my voice. Play it more crazy than angry. "Kill me, you shuck coward. Prove you can do the right thing. Put me out of my misery," I begged.

"Newt, maybe we can…"

"Shut up! Just shut up!" I was breathing more heavily than I could ever remember. "I trusted you! Now do it!"

"I can't."

But he needed to. "Do it!"

"I can't!" he repeated.

Maybe he needed a choice. "Kill me or I'll kill you. Kill me! Do it!"

"Newt…" his voice trailed off.

"Do it before I become one of them!"

"I…"

"KILL ME!" I shouted with every ounce of strength left in me. I felt the pain in my brain die down for just a moment and I managed to ask him once more, but with as much sadness I've ever heard out of a person. "Please, Tommy. Please?"

Finally, in a split second, I went from the most miserable place I've ever been to the most beautiful sensation of sweet relief.


End file.
